


Tell Me You Love Me (I Want to Believe)

by inukagome15



Series: At Long Last [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), absolutely no character bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/pseuds/inukagome15
Summary: As much as things have changed after the Accords, so much else hasn't and Tony has no idea where to even begin fixing things. Happiness seems like an elusive dream, no matter how much Rhodey encourages him to reach for it. After all, the one thing he wants to be happy will never happen. Will it?
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: At Long Last [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994077
Comments: 32
Kudos: 210





	Tell Me You Love Me (I Want to Believe)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so...the route to finishing this story is a long and funny story. I started this a few years ago? It was inspired off this really melancholic but gorgeous Steve/Tony drawing that was set post-CW and that was my original intention to get there. But 9,000 words later and I wasn't really getting anywhere and I stopped writing this for a bit.  
> Now, I'm playing a character that's literally a conglomeration of Tony Stark and _Supernatural's_ Gabriel in a D&D campaign that's based off my TLA series, and that character jokingly proposed to the Rhodey of the campaign, only now it's entirely serious and that just led to me being like WE NEED MORE TONY/RHODEY CONTENT. And then I thought of this fic? And reviewed it and was like...hey...there's a _lot_ going on here and maybe I wasn't going the right route to finish it off.  
> So, uh...that's the story behind this fic and I have no regrets.
> 
> Also we need more content and this is just me trying to add to that.
> 
> (There is no character bashing in this fic. Everyone is treated fairly, even if some characters have rather sour opinions of each other.)

They were all back, but that didn’t mean things were back to normal. It was far too quiet, the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable.

They were tiptoeing around each other, and the Avengers had never once done so before.

Then again, Tony had a very poor grasp on what had been normal for the Avengers. Since, A) he’d kind of bailed on being Iron Man for a little bit there, B) none of them had ever taken him up on living in the tower (which was a crying shame since their floors had been _fantastic_ and no he wasn’t salty about that, Rhodey), and C) he’d again bailed on being an Avenger after the whole Ultron fiasco.

So…he hadn’t ever really had an accurate gauge on what was “normal” for the Avengers. If there even was a normal.

But _this_ wasn’t.

They’d gotten along better than this on the occasions that they had all been together.

Tony would take the leftover coffee grounds in the garbage disposal if it meant things got better (actually, wait, no, that was just gross). Tony would take Thor remodeling the grass every day if things got better (and he could always claim it was for the “aesthetic” and watch Peter make offended faces).

He wanted to fix things ( _needed_ to fix things). It was his thing. It was what he _did_. But Tony didn’t know if this could get fixed. He didn’t know how.

The Accords had only been a small part (really, they’d been broken as a team long before). And since the entire team had since signed the revised ones, it wasn’t like that was a big thing anymore.

Kind of.

Tony leaned his elbows against the railing of the balcony overseeing part of the grounds of the compound, sighing. It was too cloudy for the sunglasses he was currently sporting, but honestly he didn’t give a shit.

It helped with the persistent headache he always seemed to be sporting nowadays. It wasn’t even the fun kind of headache since he hadn’t done any kind of hardcore drinking in over a year.

Years. Tony wasn’t entirely sure on that (okay that was a lie, but who was there to call him on it?).

Bending his head, Tony rubbed at his forehead, inhaling slowly.

The worst part was Steve. He was just so…tentative.

It was wrong to see Captain America being tentative.

But then Steve wasn’t exactly Captain America at the moment, was he? He still hadn’t taken up the shield again, although at least Tony had managed to get him out of that horrendous suit that provided no protection whatsoever (although it had definitely been…something to look at. Tony could appreciate a nice body when he saw one).

It wasn’t even that Tony knew what to do with Steve. They hadn’t ever been friends, had they? So why was it his responsibility as to what happened with him? Whether he was doing okay?

Tony resisted the urge to press his forehead to the cool metal of the railing, forcing himself to straighten up and take another breath.

He liked to fix things. He wanted – he wanted to _protect_. Never mind that he had a track record of being horrendously shitty at that; it was still what he wanted to do.

Steve didn’t want that protection. Tony wasn’t going to offer it, not for it to get smacked back into his face like it had before.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He nudged his sunglasses up so he could massage the bridge of his nose.

It didn’t help with his headache at all, and at this point Tony was beginning to doubt anything would.

Of course, it would probably help to get some sleep.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. It seemed that it was always being interrupted by nightmares, an emergency on the other side of the world, or his own racing thoughts (typically his thoughts because his brain _never shut up_ ).

One thing was for sure. Tony wasn’t going to get anything done moping around on the balcony like some pretty princess.

Even if he did look damned good in a dress.

Exhaling, Tony let go of the railing and turned around, heading inside into the warmth of the building. The compound wasn’t really that homey, but then it was also called a _compound_ (did people think homey thoughts when they heard the word “compound”? Tony sure didn’t).

The living quarters were homier than the rest, but even that didn’t say much because no one had gone to the effort of making it look lived in.

It was nothing like what Tony had hoped (once upon a time) the Avengers would be. His heart hurt at the thought, but he’d gotten good at ignoring it (he’d gotten good at ignoring a lot of things; there should be some kind of award).

Slipping his sunglasses into his inside jacket pocket, Tony turned a corner and headed to the kitchen. He wanted something warm to drink, and coffee sounded like a good way to mitigate his headache.

Steve was there when Tony stepped inside, frying something on the stove. He didn’t react to Tony’s presence other than a stiffening of his shoulders.

Tony resisted the urge to sigh, fidget, or do anything else that would give away his discomfort. He wasn’t _uncomfortable_ around Steve. There was no reason to be. He’d gone through enough sessions with BARF and a therapist to be able to say that he was not scared of Steve Rogers.

Sure, he might have flinched a little bit when Steve moved too fast in his direction or avoided Steve a little too often to be natural, but Tony was totally over that now. Really.

Heading to the coffee machine, Tony put it on and went to fetch a mug. He could feel Steve watching him, although maybe it was just his imagination (he wasn’t _that_ egoistic; there was no reason for Steve to be watching him). When he looked, Steve was still focused on whatever he was frying. It looked like eggs. If eggs could be comprised of 75% vegetables.

Tony couldn’t judge. His omelets were pitiful.

His fingers were beating a rapid staccato against the countertop when Steve suddenly spoke, breaking the totally not awkward silence. “Are you…staying here?”

Blinking, Tony glanced askance to where Steve was determinedly staring at his frying pan. “I am. That a problem, Rogers?”

A muscle twitched in Steve’s jaw. “No problem.” The answer was curt, nothing else forthcoming.

Steve dumped his suspicious omelet onto a plate and grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge before leaving the kitchen. He hadn’t even grabbed a fork.

Tony stared after him for a long moment, chest tightening painfully. His eyes burned, and he quickly turned back to the coffee machine, rubbing at them.

He was tired. That was all.

Just…tired.

* * *

“When’s the last time you slept, Tony?”

“Rhodey, I’m _hurt_ that you think I’m anything less than at the top of my game—”

“I swear your circles have circles—”

“Are you calling me a raccoon? I’ll have you know I’m beautiful at all times of the day—”

“You have a headache,” Rhodey said bluntly, frowning heavily at Tony. “And you keep squinting at the screens. C’mon, Tony; it’s me.”

Tony fell silent, pressing his lips together as he resisted the urge to rub his temples. Of course he had a headache; he _always_ had a headache nowadays. The poke at the shadows under his eyes was just rude; it wasn’t _that_ bad.

“Anyone’d have a headache with the bozos living here,” Tony said finally, managing a bright grin. “You’ve met them.”

Rhodey looked distinctly unimpressed. “I have, but I also know you’re not spending that much time around them. Which means you’re not sleeping. And you’ve got that manic expression that means my next set of legs might have rockets. I don’t want rocket legs, Tony.”

“That’s a crying shame, pooh bear; rocket legs are _fantastic_.”

“I’ll stick with my suit, thanks.” Rhodey had his arms folded over his chest, eyes flicking back to the holographic screen Tony had hovering over his shoulder. “What model is this? Twenty?”

“Something like that,” Tony answered vaguely, not wanting to mention the first six iterations he’d made and scrapped before bringing the seventh to Rhodey to test out.

“I was fine with this one,” Rhodey said, pulling one leg back. There was a very faint whirring that was the only sign Rhodey hadn’t moved it without aid. And when he walked, it was still just a little too clunky for Tony’s taste.

“It can be better.” Tony magnified the changes he was making, making it easier for Rhodey to see.

“I don’t need better,” Rhodey said patiently. “What I need is for my best friend to take care of himself.”

Tony bit the inside of his cheek, fingers flexing in front of the holograph. “I…I’ll be okay.”

Rhodey leaned forward. “That sounds better. What’s going on, Tones? Is it Rogers? Maximoff? If it is, I’ll kick their ass—”

“No, they haven’t done anything.” Tony paused, heart fluttering at the determination in Rhodey’s tone. What had he done to deserve such an awesome best friend? “It’s…”

“I know that face,” Rhodey said when Tony didn’t continue. “It’s your patented ‘it’s Steve Rogers, _help me, Rhodey_ ’ face.”

“I don’t – I don’t have a Steve Rogers face,” Tony protested. “And it wouldn’t be that kind of face!”

“It is.”

“Ugh.” Tony made a face (which was definitely _not_ the one Rhodey had just accused him of having) and turned back to his prosthetic designs. “They haven’t done anything, Rhodey,” he repeated. “Steve’s been…fine.”

Rhodey said nothing for a while, and Tony was beginning to think that he’d get out of this conversation lightly when Rhodey sighed. “He’s done absolutely nothing, right? I can’t believe that’s the problem.”

Tony shot him a startled look for a brief second before turning away and schooling his face. “There’s no problem.”

“There’s no problem, and _that’s_ the problem.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Your brain doesn’t make sense,” Rhodey fired back. “I can’t…” He sighed again. “If he hurts you again, I’m not even going to ask questions before going after his ass.”

Tony didn’t bother arguing. There was no arguing with Rhodey when he got like this, especially when he was totally right. “There’s nothing happening, Rhodey.”

Rhodey’s voice was gentle. “You want there to be.”

Tony stared through the prosthetic designs to the blank wall at the other end of his workshop. He should have some pictures up there, but apparently everyone else had infected him with their awkwardness (and what kind of pictures would he have anyway? He didn’t think Picasso was a valid choice for his workshop; Pepper would scream).

“Does it matter?” Tony said eventually, tired. He gave into the urge to rub at his forehead, closing his eyes. They burned, and his next breath was more ragged than he would have liked.

“Yeah, Tones.” Rhodey’s hand was a solid warmth on his shoulder. “It kinda does.”

“Nothing’s going to happen anyway.” Tony indulged himself for one more moment before letting his hands drop and opening his eyes. “Like I said, nothing’s happening; they don’t want anything to do with me. So I’m dealing.”

“Hey.” Rhodey’s voice was still gentle. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of his face, that’s on him. He doesn’t deserve you tearing yourself into pieces over this.”

“Great.” Tony flashed him a smile. “Since I’m not.”

Rhodey hummed skeptically, raising his eyebrows. “So, you’re going to sleep?”

Tony huffed out something which could be a laugh if he was feeling charitable. “Sure thing, honey. Soon as I finish this and get it fitted. Since what you’re wearing is totally outdated and you deserve better.”

Rhodey squeezed Tony’s shoulder once before letting go. “No rockets.”

“Skates?”

“Sometimes I think you _want_ me to fall on my ass.”

“Only on days ending with ‘y.’”

* * *

Nothing was happening.

That shouldn’t be a bad thing, should it?

Objectively, it _wasn’t_. No one was blowing shit up, fighting over a piece of legislation, or getting into people’s heads to cause them to tear apart a city (okay, it was possible Tony was still just a _teensy_ bit salty about what had happened; just a bit).

But subjectively… Tony felt like clawing out of his own skin with how awkward things were. He wanted to shout and scream and maybe throw that god-awful vase he’d never liked into the nearest wall and watch it shatter into pieces.

Maybe then some of the disgusting mess inside him would subside. Maybe then he could _breathe_.

As it was, he’d thrown Steve’s key card in his face (not a punch, not the fucking _flip phone_ that had been a piss poor peace offering, or anything else that might have broken a nose) and let them move back into the compound without any fuss. All the fuss had already been made before with the catastrophic collapse of the team and the slow mending of affairs afterwards.

And then…nothing.

Everyone was doing a remarkable job of not stepping on anyone’s toes. Considering how many people were involved, the differing personalities, and all the triggers everyone had, this was nothing short of a miracle.

Yet it was driving Tony _bonkers_. (More bonkers. He was aware he didn’t have everything quite straightened out, thanks.)

He couldn’t explain it to Rhodey. His friend wouldn’t understand, especially since he still eyed Steve and Wanda warily, like they’d do something wrong if he so much as blinked. He’d forgiven Sam (not that there’d been anything to forgive there), and they got along well. As for Natasha…Rhodey had given up all subtlety with her and made it clear she was in his bad books.

Tony couldn’t really fault him there. He and Natasha weren’t getting along too well these days either.

But Rhodey would think that it was good that nothing was happening. That the only people who spoke to Tony on a regular basis on topics that didn’t involve Avengers business were Rhodey, Vision, Peter, and T’Challa (on the rare occasions that his royal highness actually ventured outside of Wakanda).

Which was just about half of the Avengers on the current roster (not counting Barnes because he was still getting his head straightened out after the mess HYDRA did), and Tony would like to be on talking terms with everyone, thanks. If Thor and Bruce were around it’d be different, but those two were incognito even now and Tony didn’t want to know what Bruce would think of everything that had happened.

_We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine._

Tony glared at the desk drawer that held that ridiculous letter, wishing he could set it on fire with the power of his mind. (On second thought, no, because then he’d have to put it out and that’d be too much effort.)

If the Avengers were his family, then why didn’t it feel like one? Hell, why had Steve left with most of them?

“Um, maybe I’ll come back?”

Tony jerked his head up at the sound of Peter’s voice, an easy grin springing to his lips when he saw the kid. “Hey, kiddo!”

Peter fidgeted slightly, holding his mask in his hands. His hair was tousled in the manner that suggested he’d just pulled the mask off and hadn’t bothered to straighten it. He looked cautious, probably because he’d just walked in on Tony wanting to set fire to a desk drawer.

“C’mon.” Tony beckoned him over.

“I mean, if you’re busy, it’s no big deal…”

“Do I look busy? No, don’t answer that.” Tony dismissively waved it off, standing and going over to Peter. “How’s your aunt doing? She figure out that baking thing yet?”

“She’s not that terrible,” Peter muttered.

“Since you’re still alive, I’ll have to agree on that.”

“She’ll be happy to hear you liked her cookies.” Peter’s grin was sly.

Said cookies had been given to Dummy, who’d quite happily proceeded to make a tower out of them. The cookies were still in a corner of the workshop and didn’t seem to have rotted or done anything else suspicious that normal cookies would do (like, say, grow mold or become disgustingly soggy/hard; or maybe that was bread).

“Dummy appreciated them,” Tony agreed, not missing a beat. “You eat something yet?”

“I grabbed some sandwiches from the kitchen,” Peter said. “I was kind of hoping you could help me with some homework…”

Tony proceeded to steer them to the bookroom, where he had a lot of actual books left over from the first time the Avengers had started using the compound. (Steve had always liked using them.) There were also some truly comfy chairs and a desk for paperwork.

“How’re classes going?” Tony asked, ticking that question off the mental list. “Professors giving you a hard time? Classmates?”

“You know it’s online, right?” Peter had an amused grin on his face. “I don’t actually go to class.”

“Semantics. I hear cyberbullying’s a thing.”

“Well, thankfully it’s not high school,” Peter said. “I already have enough of that with my actual classes.”

“Are you suggesting that college classes aren’t actual classes?”

“I’m…well…” Peter looked hunted, eyes flickering from side to side. “They’re _online_ ,” he managed, voice sounding half-strangled.

“I’m kidding,” Tony said, squeezing Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. “Isn’t that a thing adults do with their teenagers? Or is that last century?”

Peter relaxed, pulling a face. “I never know when you’re kidding.”

“You’ll pick it up, but if you haven’t yet there’s also a possibility that you’re a lost cause and will have to be relegated to the corner with Dummy.”

“That’s fine,” Peter said solemnly. “He and I can come up with a plan to end world hunger and maybe figure out the light bulb.”

They entered the bookroom, making a beeline towards the fancily ornate desk that was set up along the wall with some comfortable chairs. There was a reading area at the furthest corner, surrounded by bookshelves and filled with some of the comfiest chairs Tony had managed to get his hands on. (That two were patterned with rather questionable designs was a rather unfortunate side effect. They were damn comfortable and that was all that had to be said. Even if the colors clashed rather horrendously with everything else and one was patterned with pizza slices and lemons)

The room wasn’t empty, Steve curled up in the most gaudily colored chair with a book. He looked up as they entered, body stiffening as he realized who it was.

Tony carefully didn’t react beyond giving Steve a small nod, focused on making it to the desk where he wouldn’t have to look Steve in the eye.

Peter wasn’t as relaxed as before, clearly having interpreted the situation as tense. He angled his head towards Tony, barely speaking as he moved his lips. “We can leave?”

Tony shot him a small, pained smile, shaking his head. God, Peter was a sweet kid. Definitely better than anything Tony deserved (to be accurate he didn’t deserve Peter at all but the kid stuck to him like a leech so there was that. Not that Peter was a _leech_ since he didn’t actually suck Tony dry and the simile died right there so Tony should quit now).

It felt like Steve was staring at his back, but when Tony managed a glance behind him Steve was looking at his book like the answers to life’s mysteries would be found within its pages (and maybe it was that kind of book, although Steve tended to like the fantasy and sci-fi genres versus philosophical bullshit).

“So what homework’s kicking your ass?” Tony asked Peter once they were seated and Peter had pulled out his textbooks from his bag. “If it’s English you can toss it over there.” He pointed to the trashcan dedicated solely for paper.

Peter shot Tony an unimpressed look (oh for the days when Peter was too star-struck to do much more than stammer and flail over Tony). “I know you like King Arthur and the Knights of Camelot. You don’t hate English as much as you pretend to.”

“Hey, King Arthur and his knights are classic. _Timeless_. Not like _Wuthering Heights_ and whatever else they’ve got you reading nowadays. _War and Peace_? _Kidnapped_?” Tony rooted through his admittedly foggy memory of English high school classes for the books they’d been assigned. It seemed like he’d blotted most of that out in pure self-preservation because he couldn’t remember what they’d covered. Only that Shakespeare had definitely been involved because everyone loved the Bard. “ _Bridge to Terabithia_?” he guessed, remembering something years ago about kids crying because the movie hadn’t been all fluff and rainbows.

“You only got one of those books right,” Peter said. “Is there seriously a book titled ‘kidnapped’?”

“Yes,” Tony said firmly, only about 85% sure that he’d read it and hadn’t actually hallucinated the entire thing. It was a book he regretted ever reading and wished had never been written. He looked down at the sheets of math and physics homework Peter had pulled out, considering how to best break down the concepts being taught. “Wait, if not those, what are they teaching you then?”

“We read _Jane Eyre_ ,” Peter told Tony, using a pencil to point to several questions in particular. “And _Frankenstein_. MJ kept going on about how people keep confusing the monster with Frankenstein; there were pictures.”

“Good girl,” Tony answered absentmindedly, looking at the questions and the answers Peter shoved into his face. “Are you dating yet?”

“What?” Peter’s voice cracked tellingly (Tony hoped it didn’t happen while he was out fighting bad guys. One’s reputation took a hit if one’s voice started breaking in the middle of threatening perps). “No!”

“I want to say that’s a shame, but maybe being a responsible adult means telling you that you should focus on your studies and not on girls?” Tony paused, considering that. “So long as your grades stay up it should be fine.”

“Not an issue,” Peter said quickly, “ _definitely_ not an issue. Okay, please, can we talk about this?” He tapped his pencil on the homework, clearly desperate to move to safer waters.

Studying his nervous expression, Tony decided to take pity on him. He vaguely remembered being seventeen-almost-eighteen and looking at girls (and boys, even if that had turned out less than spectacular thanks to wonderful social skills) and trying to impress them. Granted he’d been finishing a degree at MIT and not in high school while taking online college classes.

Probably not the same thing.

“Walk me through what you understand and don’t understand,” Tony said eventually. “You’ve got the answers written out…”

An hour later, Tony left Peter studying at the desk, turning around to see that sometime during the tutoring/studying session Steve had left the room. The book he’d been reading was still on the chair, and Tony couldn’t resist going over to see what had caught his eye.

It was a dog-eared and battered edition of _King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table_. Throat suddenly thick, Tony bent to pick it up, leafing through the pages until he stopped at a familiar inscription at the beginning written in Jarvis’s delicate handwriting.

He hadn’t read this book in ages. He had no idea where Steve had found it or why he would even be reading it. It wasn’t like _Steve_ was a fan of King Arthur the way Tony was…

But Tony had…Tony had _told_ Steve about reading the legends of King Arthur as a child and into adolescence. It had been during one of those nights when Tony’s insomnia had been bad and Steve couldn’t sleep either and they’d wound up in the living room together. Tony couldn’t remember how the conversation had turned to books (okay that was a lie; he knew exactly how but did it even matter at this point?) but that was where he’d confirmed that Steve loved reading fantasy and had read _The Hobbit_ when it’d been initially published and then gone on to read the sequels after being defrosted.

Steve’s love for sci-fi had started in the future as well.

_“Honestly, I started reading them because of you.”_

_“You’re going to bloat my ego, Cap.”_

_“That’s not exactly a bad thing, you know.”_

Tony shook his head, forcing himself back to the present, eyes on the book he was still holding.

Steve remembered…

But that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

* * *

“—you are on thin ice, Romanov.”

Tony froze outside the hallway leading to the conference room. He was almost in sight of the room but after a second’s thought he inched backwards, leaning back against the wall.

“Is that personal or professional, Rhodes?” Natasha’s voice was cool, revealing nothing of her thoughts (it had always been like that with her and Tony never knew if it was honest amusement or her laughing behind his back because _textbook narcissism, Iron Man Yes, Tony Stark not recommended_ ).

“You and I both know goddamn well there’s nothing professional I can pin on you,” Rhodey said, his tone even despite the anger hidden in the words. Rhodey had been annoyed with Tony, sometimes even angry, but Tony had never _ever_ had that tone directed at him. Like he was the scum of the earth and not even fit to be on Rhodey’s boots. The last time Tony had heard that tone being used was during one of Stane’s death anniversaries and Rhodey had taken vindictive pleasure in throwing darts at a picture of Stane he’d pulled out and hung up on a wall. There’d been ranting involved and threats to Stane’s manhood that Tony rather regretted not being able to see put into action since Stane was long dead.

Anyway…it had been a while since Tony had personally heard that tone being used, and he’d had no idea that things were this bad between Rhodey and Natasha.

He shouldn’t listen in on this, but there was no way Rhodey or Natasha would ever tell him anything to his face. And if he revealed himself now, they’d just move elsewhere. It’d be better if he listened in, got a better feel for what was actually going on.

(He couldn’t even tell if that was a lie to justify eavesdropping on his best friend.)

“If this is about the call I made on the field—”

“No, it’s not.” Rhodey’s voice softened slightly. “You had to make a decision, so you did. We’ve all been there. It might not have been the best one, but it is what it is.”

It was a more concise version of what Rhodey had told Tony that day when he’d been struggling with the legs Tony had built him (the seventh version and he would never tell Rhodey how many he’d made before finally deciding to give it a practical run).

“Then what is it?” Natasha asked. She sounded confused, but one could never tell with her.

“You know what the thing with Tony is?” Rhodey said out of nowhere. “What you just don’t seem to get? Despite the flash and the glamour and the show he puts on out there…he likes giving people second chances. He doesn’t trust easily, but when he does… And for whatever reason, despite how you entered his life, he decided you were worth that trust. But here’s the thing. Tony – despite what he likes to say – isn’t all that good at character judgments, not when it relates to himself. So it ends in situations like Stane.” He paused significantly, then added, “Or you.”

“You disagreed with him.” Natasha’s tone was matter-of-fact.

“I did, even if I never told him. I made a choice a long time ago to watch Tony’s back because he doesn’t have anyone else to do it for him. He wanted to trust you, and once his mind’s made up, there isn’t anything one can do to change it. So I watched you – watched everyone. And the thing is…I honestly thought for a moment that you were in it for the long haul. That for once Tony had it right, that I didn’t have to worry.” Rhodey sounded rueful.

Tony closed his eyes, pressing the back of his head to the wall, focusing on keeping his breathing steady despite the prickling in his eyes and burning in his throat.

“We’re here,” Natasha said, sounding like she was picking her words out carefully. “We’re in it for good, James.”

“Are you, Romanov?” Rhodey answered coolly. “You’re here because Tony worked his ass off to get those pardons and get the Accords worked out to a point where all of us can work together. But when the going got bad you bailed. I’m not mad about the call you made in the field, but I’m mad as hell about the shit you pulled afterwards.”

“Rhodes—”

“His _ego_ , Romanov? You’ve known Tony for almost ten years and you still can’t get over that damn personality assessment you bullshitted? What kind of psychology degree do you have? You might be a spy, Romanov, and maybe even a good one, but you’re too blinded by your own ego to see what you might have missed.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open, and he looked at the opposite wall, focusing on the blank space. What was Rhodey doing?

Natasha was silent for a long moment. “I don’t have an excuse,” she eventually answered. “We’ve all done things we regret.”

“Sure we have,” Rhodey said acidly. “Mine’s not having Tony’s back when he stopped manufacturing weapons. But even when we disagree we’re still friends, and I won’t ever stab my best friend in the back. So Tony doesn’t need to watch his own back, Romanov; he’s got me to do it for him. So if you’re going to turn around and stab him, you’re going to have to go through me.”

_“I’m not the one who needs to watch their back.”_

Rhodey had been unconscious in the hospital during that conversation. Where’d he hear about that? Tony hadn’t told him and hadn’t even considered telling him (his best friend didn’t need to know how much of a fuck up Tony was, even if he’d already seen Tony at his worst; there could be even _worse_ to see and Rhodey hadn’t needed that additional stress).

“I won’t,” Natasha said. “That isn’t who I am anymore.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony could just picture the skeptical, scornful expression Rhodey was currently sporting. It usually preceded a scathing tongue lashing (not one that Tony had been on the receiving end of; these were significantly more vicious than the _I’m so disappointed in you right now_ lectures/looks that Tony usually got). No, no, Tony couldn’t have this go any further.

Rushing forward, Tony affected a casual posture as he entered the room, raising his eyebrows as he saw Rhodey and Natasha standing at opposite ends of the room. Rhodey had his hands on the back of a chair and was glowering at Natasha with the exact expression Tony had pictured. “Oh wow, hey, is there a meeting going on that I don’t know about?” He looked down at his watch as if to confirm the time (it was a repulsor gauntlet masquerading as a watch but it did actually tell the time because why have a watch that didn’t tell time?). “At two in the morning?”

Rhodey straightened, taking his hands off the chair. His expression softened as he turned to Tony. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, clearly asking Tony how much he’d heard (his platypus knew Tony so well). “Hey, Tones. I could ask you the same thing. What happened to turning over a new leaf and sleeping through the night?”

“Psh, that’s so last century.” Tony paused, glanced at Natasha who was sporting an unreadable expression, and continued, “How does one turn over a new leaf? Aren’t leaves basically the same on both sides? A leaf is a leaf.”

“How much coffee have you had?” Rhodey asked.

“None,” Tony replied honestly, shrugging. He didn’t elaborate, reading the understanding in Rhodey’s face. It was no secret to his best friend that he suffered from insomnia, which hadn’t been so bad before but something had cracked in Siberia (had cracked before that but it hadn’t actually _shattered_ until that cold bunker in a frozen land). “But you’re dodging the question, honey. What’s up with the clandestine meetings in the dark?” He looked pointedly up to the unlighted light bulbs. Apparently FRIDAY also had a taste for the melodramatic since she hadn’t switched them on either.

Rhodey sighed, rocking his weight backwards (and not toppling over which might have happened several models ago). “How much did you hear, Tony?”

“Didn’t need to hear all of it to know you were about to ream her out,” Tony said, flashing a small smile. Rhodey’s expression said he knew Tony was dodging the question but that he would give him this one. “We talked about this, Rhodey. Natasha and I are cool.”

“She and I aren’t,” Rhodey responded coolly.

“I know.” Tony nodded in acknowledgement. “But whatever happened between us was between us, Rhodey. And we’ve cleared the air.” Even if Natasha skillfully avoided him and made sure that they weren’t in the same room alone (it didn’t bother him that she did that. Really).

“It was a conversation I didn’t think would happen,” Natasha said, finally speaking. She gave Tony a small smile that looked entirely genuine. He returned it with his own, showing less teeth than he might have if he was trying to be overly artificial. She looked to Rhodey. “I’m sorry, James. I know you don’t think that I am, but it’s true.” She breathed in, body relaxing. “We’ve all made mistakes; I’m still trying to make up for mine.”

Natasha waited for a response, gaze flickering between Tony and Rhodey. When none came, she gave Tony a wistful smile and walked out.

That left Tony and Rhodey standing alone in a dark conference room. Tony briefly considered asking FRIDAY for the lights but decided that he didn’t want to ruin his night vision (and the ambience wasn’t too bad; perfectly nice for a midnight conversation with his best buddy who’d just been chewing out an assassin/spy who could strangle him with her thighs).

“All right,” Rhodey said once they were sure Natasha was out of earshot, “how much did you really hear, Tony?”

Tony wet his lips, tucking his hands into his pockets. It quelled the nervous trembling he could feel starting. He made a sheepish face. “Thin ice,” was all he said, not wanting to lie.

“So almost everything,” Rhodey noted, resigned. He sighed, shaking his head briefly. He didn’t look annoyed, just weary. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I think it’s good I did,” Tony said. “I had no idea how you felt.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“I’m a big boy, Rhodey. I think I can handle it when two of my friends don’t get along.”

Rhodey hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed, “but you shouldn’t have to.”

“I think that should be my decision.”

“Probably, but you don’t have to get in the middle of this, Tony.”

Tony pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side. “What happened to letting bygones be bygones?”

“No one said ‘bygones be bygones.’ Maybe if we all got drunk and did something stupid, sure, but not in this case.” Rhodey shook his head, sitting down in the nearest chair. The slight hint of amusement in Rhodey’s voice faded as he continued, “I never agreed to that.”

Tony took the chair closest to Rhodey, leaning his arm on the table. “It was insinuated.”

“I didn’t care,” Rhodey said flatly, giving Tony a hard stare. “I can’t let it go.”

Tony bit the inside of his mouth, taking a deep breath through his nose. “I think this is where I say that you shouldn’t put yourself in the middle of my mess.”

“What she did didn’t just affect you, you know,” Rhodey said.

“It sounded like you didn’t care about that,” Tony pointed out. “From what I heard, it sounded more like you had a problem with her having a problem with me.” He winced the moment the words got out, since clearly something had gotten mixed up between his brain and mouth. How much more convoluted could one get?

Rhodey seemed to understand what Tony had been saying despite the jumble of words. “I sure do,” he said blandly. “Like I told her, she made a call. That’s not the issue. The issue is what she pulled with you again. You don’t deserve that shit, Tony, and I’m not having it. Not again.”

“I’ve got it handled,” Tony said. “I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armor, Rhodey.”

“Maybe you don’t _need_ it,” Rhodey said, although his expression clearly said he disagreed vehemently with this assessment, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve one. And what if I want to be one, huh? You gonna stop me from having your back? I know you’ve got mine, Tones; let me have yours.”

Tony looked at him, his heart several sizes too big for his chest. “That can’t be it,” he managed, his voice thankfully not choked. “C’mon, buddy; don’t hold back now.”

Rhodey’s face twisted slightly, his eyes pinching. “Fine,” he said shortly. “I want you to have what you deserve. What you _want_. You shouldn’t have to deal with table scraps and trying to tell yourself that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

“You think I like table scraps?” Tony protested.

“I think you’ll take anything you can get so long as the team’s here,” Rhodey said flatly. “And that’s not what you should settle for. You deserve a hell of a lot more than you’re getting. You like putting on a show, Tony, but don’t forget that I was there for you learning how to put those masks on. You can hide from them, but you sure as hell can’t hide from me.”

Tony’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “What do I deserve, then?” he asked quietly. “Since you seem to know.”

Rhodey’s face softened. “You deserve what you want, and you know what that is. Even if I don’t think that he’s good enough for you and he should know damn well how lucky he is that you’re even thinking about it.”

“Reading minds now, are you?”

“Nah, just yours.” Rhodey cracked a grin. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Tony hesitated, studying the faint scars around his right thumb. “I wanted Pepper,” he said rather than answer.

“I know,” Rhodey said gently. “But you and Pepper….”

“It wasn’t going to work,” Tony said, sighing. He’d _tried_ damn it, but that relationship had never been meant to last. (Something in him had always known ever since Pepper had asked, absolutely horrified, if those were _bullet holes_.)

“And that wasn’t your fault,” Rhodey said.

“Sure it wasn’t,” Tony agreed dutifully.

Rhodey narrowed his eyes at him, clearly hearing some sarcasm there. “You deserve happiness and someone who wants all of you,” he said.

Was he supposed to repeat that, too? Tony felt like that was going a bit too far. Rhodey wasn’t his therapist (the poor woman certainly was paid enough to deal with all his shit).

“Are you competing for that honor?” Tony asked instead.

“Oh hell,” Rhodey said, “you _wish_. But you and I both know I don’t swing that way.”

It was something Rhodey had repeated numerous times before whenever Tony so much as joked or suggested that maybe they could try a little something. Tony hadn’t done it often because he really did value Rhodey’s friendship too much to push for something more when Rhodey was just so clearly uninterested.

Rhodey had already placed pre-adult Tony very squarely in the “younger brother” category by the time he’d met Tony black-out drunk and taken the “too-young-to-know-what’s-good-for-him-shrimp” back to his dorm room. That had apparently put Rhodey off of trying anything romantic with Tony, even if he wasn’t already mostly straight. (Tony said “mostly” because he’d seen Rhodey eye some hot male celebrities.)

But Rhodey was _Rhodey_ , and Tony loved him too much.

“But seriously, Tony,” Rhodey said after a moment, “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” Tony met his eyes, smiling.

“Which is why you’re wandering around the hallways at two in the morning,” Rhodey said. “Which is why you have a headache all the time. Which is why you look like someone stepped on your heart every time Rogers hightails it out of any room you’re in.”

Tony’s eyes flickered to the side. “You thinking of turning in your aerospace engineering degree for an English one?”

Rhodey reached out to hold Tony’s wrist, grip tight. “Tony.”

Tony stared at where Rhodey’s fingers were curled around his wrist. “He doesn’t want it,” he said finally.

“Do you know that?” Rhodey asked. “Or is that just your anxiety speaking?”

Tony refused to answer, closing his eyes at the sight of Steve’s stiff face whenever he saw Tony enter a room. Steve didn’t care about him – had _never_ cared, had he? Tony had fooled himself into thinking they were friends (because they so clearly had never been friends, maybe just friendly work acquaintances).

It’d all been one-sided on Tony’s end (and it hurt, hurt, _hurt_ to think of how much he’d invested, how much he’d hoped and wanted and _yearned_ , only for everything to be thrown into the garbage). Only now Steve owed something of a debt to Tony after wrangling the Accords into something more palatable, and he couldn’t just dismiss things like he would have before.

 _“I will miss you, Tony.”_ (Lies.)

“I want you to be happy,” Rhodey said when Tony didn’t say anything.

“You don’t want me to make up with him,” Tony said, opening his eyes to meet Rhodey’s.

“I think you’re too good for him,” Rhodey said, shrugging. He shifted his grip to rest his hand on Tony’s forearm. “But like I said, I’ll have your back no matter what. Even if you want to get together with his stupid ass.”

“He has a nice ass,” Tony said despite himself.

Rhodey pulled a face. “Okay, maybe so, but still.” He gave Tony a look. “You know what I mean.”

Tony returned the look with a shameless smile. “I do, buddy.” He covered Rhodey’s hand with his own. “Thanks.”

“You bet, Tones.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back to rest against the back of the chair. After a moment, he said, “I didn’t know you regretted that.”

Rhodey didn’t seem startled at the change in subject. “There aren’t a lot of things I’m not proud of, but that’s one of them. At the time, I thought you just needed to get your head on straight after what happened in Afghanistan. Your weapons did a lot of good for us, even though I know you don’t see it like that anymore. But I should have known you had your reasons for it.”

“To be fair, I didn’t tell you anything.”

“You normally don’t.” Rhodey looked both fond and resigned.

Tony rubbed his hands briefly before leaning his elbows on the table, resting his suddenly heavy head in his hands. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” he said, eyes pressed into his palms. “I knew I did. After I calmed down after – after Siberia, I realized that what Steve did for Barnes…I would’ve done it for you, too.”

“You think I wouldn’t have?” Rhodey demanded. “I wouldn’t have done it the way Rogers did, but you think I wouldn’t have beaten some heads together if _you_ were in that position? I _did_ when you were in Afghanistan. I spent the longest three months of my life looking for you in that damn desert, insisting you were alive despite what the brass said, and then I found you.”

“You were the best thing I’d ever seen,” Tony admitted, picking his head up enough to look sideways at Rhodey.

“Spent all that time looking for you, and you busted your own way out,” Rhodey said, grinning fondly.

“Thanks,” Tony said. “For that. I don’t think I ever said.”

“You didn’t have to.” Rhodey frowned, leaning forward into Tony’s space. He laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Maybe we don’t have an epic friendship like Rogers and Barnes, but we’ve got something just as good.”

Tony’s eyes prickled and stung, and he pressed his eyes back into his palms before Rhodey could see. His breath trembled in his chest, catching in his throat despite his best efforts.

Rhodey said nothing, rubbing Tony’s shoulder reassuringly.

After several minutes, feeling somewhat more composed, Tony straightened and managed a casual grin. “If there was anything you regretted,” he said brightly, “I would’ve thought it’d be that second spring break—”

“Okay,” Rhodey interrupted, giving Tony a blank stare, “let’s let bygones be bygones, hm?”

Tony snorted, then promptly burst into helpless snickers, shoulders shaking. “Or maybe,” he managed, gasping between words, “that graduation party where you ended up in a foursome and tried to tell me afterwards that it clearly didn’t count because you didn’t remember a thing—”

“I thought we agreed not to bring that up again, Tony,” Rhodey said. “We _agreed_.”

“ _Spring fling_ ,” Tony burst out in one breath.

Rhodey stared hard at him. “Fine, how about you blowing out the entire _electric grid_ of the engineering division while you were trying to figure out Dummy’s processors? Or that time you jimmied open the chemistry lab’s doors and shut it down for a _week_ because of a chemical explosion?”

“The strippers—”

Rhodey was grinning helplessly now. “You mixed up the baking soda with the baking powder when helping Ma—”

Tony was too breathless with laughter to retort with the time Rhodey had accidentally put salt instead of sugar in his coffee one morning when he’d been too sleep-deprived to realize he’d mixed up the two _entirely_ different containers.

“You looked at the decaf with such an _offended_ face.” Rhodey was clearly remembering something else now, his face bright with laughter.

Tony got a hold of himself long enough to say, “It’s fucking _decaf_.”

Rhodey took a deep breath, lips pressed tightly together. “So you said,” he said, voice hitching suspiciously.

“You looked at it the same way when you had a cup,” Tony pointed out, shoving Rhodey’s shoulder.

“‘It’s fucking decaf,’” Rhodey quoted with a straight face (somehow, since Tony was still unable to stop grinning).

It took a few more breaths before Tony was able to quiet the laughter bubbling in his chest and able to breathe, although he was still grinning. Leaning into Rhodey’s side, since he’d managed to slide the chairs closer together during the bout of insane laughter, Tony closed his eyes. “We had some good times.”

“Still have them.” Rhodey ruffled Tony’s hair (Tony would have to check in the mirror to be sure that it didn’t look too crazy). “And practically no regrets. Not when we’re here.”

Tony nodded, eyes closed, feeling so damn tired that he could just fall asleep on Rhodey’s shoulder.

“Hey, c’mon. I’m not carrying your fat ass to bed.”

“It’s a nice ass,” Tony muttered, not wanting to open his eyes just yet.

“Sure, I’ll give it that, but I’m still not carrying it.”

Tony rubbed his head against Rhodey’s shoulder, took several long breaths, and then managed to pry his eyes open and stand upright. Rhodey stood as well, gave him a pleased grin, and then pushed Tony away from the chair.

The small buzz of happiness from talking to Rhodey followed Tony to bed, and he found it easier to sleep that night than he’d had for a long time.

* * *

It was only because of his chat with Rhodey last night (early this morning? Ugh, who even cared) that Tony pulled out the Letter. (At this point it probably deserved the capital L.) He hadn’t looked at it again after reading it numerous times for a whole week and then squirreling it away to never be looked at again (even if it lingered in thought because sadly the adage “out of sight, out of mind” was _not_ accurate).

He rubbed his fingers over the worn creases, not unfolding it yet. He remembered every word, every crease, the perfection of the paper like Steve hadn’t hesitated a bit while writing this. (Although it was far more likely that Steve had ruined a dozen other sheets of paper before finally writing this one. The diction had that cadence to it – carefully rehearsed—)

Tony set the folded letter down next to the unopened flip phone. It was fully charged. He’d never once let the battery die despite his more spiteful tendencies urging him to just let it die in the back of a closet. Because what if? (It had been the only link tying him to Steve that would allow him to press a button and _talk_.)

Rhodey had told him he wanted Tony to be happy. _Tony_ wanted to be happy.

He couldn’t quite remember a time when he’d been 100% happy – maybe _contented_ – but happy? There’d always been something going on. So he didn’t really know how to do that.

Tony knew, given his own tendencies, that it was entirely likely his brain wouldn’t ever let him be _happy_ happy, but he could get close to it. He _wanted_ to get close to it. He was tired of feeling like shit, of letting his own anger and grief get in the way of what he wanted.

_“You deserve happiness.”_

Once upon a time, Tony would have disagreed. He would have insisted he didn’t deserve anything good after the shit he’d brought into the world.

But he was older now (and hopefully wiser), and he’d had enough therapy sessions to know that he also deserved to be happy, regardless of his past actions. Actions he was _still_ atoning for and would probably be atoning for the rest of his life. But did that negate the fact that he _deserved_ happiness, damn it?

Tony pressed two fingers to his temple, breathing in deeply. (The guilt for thinking like this could go die in a fiery pit.)

He deserved happiness (the guilt could go die); he _wanted_ happiness (the guilt should jump off a cliff).

Yes, he deserved happiness and wanted it, but that didn’t mean it would be possible the way he wanted it. The man he loved didn’t love him back and Tony wasn’t going to push for more when he didn’t want to risk a single thing of what they had.

But he could do something else. He _could_ push for friendship with Steve and mend some of the broken bridges. There was too much history between them, and Tony wasn’t even sure where he and Steve stood with each other nowadays. But Tony could at least try to reach out more than he had been doing.

He’d been moping about the Avengers not being like they were, about them avoiding each other like the plague and the awkwardness filling the halls of the compound. But had he done anything to fix that? To _try_ to fix that?

He was an engineer. Fixing things was what he did.

People weren’t as easy as machines, but some of the mechanics had to be the same (even if squishier).

The Avengers as they currently were looked like a mess. Granted, a hot mess, but a mess nonetheless. When something came, would they even be ready?

No, it wasn’t just about being ready. It was about _happiness_. Maybe…the Avengers couldn’t be like the family he’d been hoping for at the beginning, but he could try to make it somewhat more bearable.

The grudges he’d been holding weren’t doing any good. Even if he was scared (because he damn well was scared about this; only a fool wouldn’t be), he owed it to himself to give it a try.

Clinging to past mistakes as an excuse to avoid future happiness wasn’t doing any good.

With a small, wry smile, Tony reached out and picked up the folded letter. Without looking at it, he ripped it in half, then into quarters, and then into eighths. It was then dumped into the shredder for even further demolition.

Off in the corner, Dummy beeped sadly at being denied his favorite activity.

“You would’ve stashed it somewhere for me to find,” Tony told him, unimpressed. He picked up a folder of papers that were most likely unimportant if he hadn’t already signed them (somewhere Pepper was face-palming but she should know better than to give him anything in hard copy). “Have at this.”

With a happy chirp, Dummy wheeled over, snatched the folder, and went to his work corner to start tearing the folder apart. He then proceeded to spray confetti over his patient siblings.

“Ms. Potts isn’t going to be happy with that, boss,” FRIDAY said, sounding slightly uncertain as she spoke.

Tony shrugged dismissively. “Pepper knows me too well by now, Fri. You got anything for me, girl?”

“Not yet, boss. Everything seems to be quiet.”

“Hm…” Tony looked down at the flip phone for a moment before placing it back in the drawer and closing it. “Where’s Steve right now?” he asked.

FRIDAY took a moment too long to answer, which was unusual for her. It reminded him of JARVIS, who’d frequently paused before answering to express disapproval or hesitation in some form.

FRIDAY wasn’t yet at that point, but she was learning so damn quickly. (It hurt him, but he couldn’t help but be so damn proud of his girl.)

“Captain Rogers is currently in the gym,” FRIDAY eventually answered.

“Of course,” Tony murmured, remembering that he’d found Steve in the gym before when working through something difficult.

What Steve had to work through now was a mystery (like it had been all those other times). Tony wouldn’t know if he didn’t try to find out, though.

Resolved (and resolutely ignoring the ball of nerves sitting in his stomach and making him queasy), Tony exited the workshop and headed towards the gym.

“Boss…”

Tony stopped at the hesitant tone in FRIDAY’s voice. “FRIDAY?”

“Are you considering what Colonel Rhodes suggested?”

Surprised, Tony rubbed his mouth, considering FRIDAY. Finally, he asked, “You have something to add?”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, boss. Not after what happened.”

“Historically speaking, not all my ideas have been good.” Tony managed a wry grin before sighing and rolling his neck. “It’ll be okay,” he said more seriously. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but what I want…probably isn’t it.”

There was another pause, and Tony had taken two more steps before FRIDAY said, “What if it is?”

Tony’s head snapped up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry, boss,” FRIDAY said. “It was hypothetical.”

“Didn’t sound like it.”

“I’m…concerned,” FRIDAY admitted, some static at the edges of her tone signaling her hesitancy. “My protocols ask that I protect you, and I don’t know if this is the right choice.”

“What I did before wasn’t the right choice.” Most days Tony was grateful that Steve had stopped him from making a terrible mistake and killing Barnes. Now, anyway. It hadn’t been that way in the past.

“Is this a right choice?” FRIDAY asked.

“I don’t know,” Tony said honestly, continuing to the gym. “But there’s no harm in trying.” Sometimes there was, but if Tony held himself back because of all the occasions where shit _had_ blown up in his face he’d never get anything done. Life was made up of risks, and Tony had always been a risk-taker.

“But, boss…” FRIDAY didn’t continue speaking, which was odd since as an AI she should have the computing capabilities to consider and discard multiple options before ever beginning to vocalize a word.

Tony stopped outside the gym, tilting his head up towards one of the cameras he knew was there. They were invisible to the naked eye, but it was the thought that counted. “FRIDAY?”

There was a long, drawn out pause, which was probably more for drama than anything else because except for Dummy, no AI of his took this long to decide whether to say something.

“What about Colonel Rhodes?” FRIDAY’s voice was soft.

Tony blinked, since out of everything that’s the last thing he would have expected to hear. “What…about him?”

“My algorithms suggest a relationship with him would be much more successful than any with Captain Rogers.”

Tony blinked again and then one more time.

…What?

“…Boss?”

Tony shook his head, rubbing a hand over his forehead and his eyes (they ached a little with lack of sleep). “What was that about Rhodey?”

FRIDAY hesitated, then repeated what she had just said word for word.

Okay, so it wasn’t an auditory hallucination. He really had just heard her suggest that a relationship with Rhodey would be better than with Steve.

“…Why are we talking about a relationship with Steve Rogers?” Tony asked.

“You’re about to ask him to be in one, aren’t you?”

Tony squinted up at the camera. “…No?”

“You’re not?” Now FRIDAY sounded as confused as Tony felt.

“No.” Tony’s answer this time was a little firmer. “Uh, no.” He laughed a little under his breath, the sound nervous even to his own ears. “Where – where did you even _get_ that idea, FRIDAY?”

“I’d prefer not to answer that, boss.”

“ _FRIDAY_.”

“You were going to talk to Captain Rogers, boss?” FIRDAY’s voice was back to her normal perky levels. “I’ve let him know you’re waiting outside.”

“FRIDAY, damn it, we are _not_ done talking about this – heyy, Rogers!” Tony spun towards Steve, flashing him a broad, megawatt smile.

Steve gave him a wary but curious look, unwrapping the tape that had been on his hands. It was clear he had just spent a session beating on the punching bag and possibly lifting weights. Tony had seen his workout routines before and they were…impressive was only one word for it.

“You need something?” Steve asked. “FRIDAY let me know you were waiting on me.”

“Right, yeah, she did.” Tony took a breath, then let it out, nerves swimming in his stomach. “So, it’s been a little while. Team’s back together again; we’re all living back in the compound, walls no longer echoing with silence”—what the _fuck_ , Tony—“and yet I realize it’s very – is awkward the right word? Awkward seems too small of a word for what’s going on, but I can’t think of anything more suitable—”

“Tony.” Steve’s voice was firm, cutting Tony off before he could get too into rambling. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Ha, nothing’s wrong – nothing at all.” Come on, Tony. You came here for a reason. “There is”—he took a breath—“absolutely nothing wrong.”

Steve fixed him with an unconvinced look, eyebrows furrowed. It was a look Tony was keenly familiar with.

But for once Tony wasn’t lying. “There is nothing wrong,” he repeated, more calmly this time. “I just… I realized I’ve been blaming a lot of things on you – and on the others – but I haven’t been taking responsibility myself.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Tony—”

“No, let me finish.” Tony had to do this now because if he didn’t then it probably wouldn’t happen. Be _happy_. Reach for the happiness. “We were never really a family.” The words were blunt, and they seemed to lift a weight off his chest.

Steve was frowning now.

“We weren’t a family,” Tony repeated, “and we never were at any time. But I was hoping for it at one point.”

Steve’s mouth twisted, his shoulders pulling in slightly.

“The Avengers were never mine,” Tony said, not knowing what he was going to say until it came out.

Steve reeled back a little. “They were – _are_ —” he began to protest.

“They weren’t,” Tony cut him off, voice eerily calm to his own ears. “They followed you; they were your team, Captain. Never mine. But that’s…that’s not the point.” He wasn’t supposed to dredge up old wounds like this; that wouldn’t do anything to help them.

“The point is…” Tony dragged in a breath, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels a little. “I’d like for us to be friends, Rogers. Steve.” He couldn’t try to mend bridges and still call Steve by his last name. “I’d like for us to be friends, Steve,” he repeated. “If we have that chance now, I’d like to take it.”

The words were out (see, he _communicated_ ; his therapist would be proud), and now it just remained for Steve’s response.

“I thought we were friends,” Steve protested.

Tony shook his head. “Not really. Coworkers, colleagues, teammates, sure. But friends? Maybe, if you use the term loosely. I’m hoping for a little something different now.”

“Different?”

Tony thought back to FRIDAY’S assumption about him wanting to be in a relationship with Steve Rogers and hoped that Steve wasn’t operating under a similar premise. What kind of evidence were they going off of? Was Tony writing Tony Rogers and hearts all over his things? (Tony Rogers was an absolutely horrible combination and he would never do that to his name no matter how much he disliked Howard.)

“Different,” Tony said firmly, keeping his tone even. “Where we’re _actually_ friends and not just a team that’s been thrown together. We’re living together in the same compound; I’d hope we can work something out.” It had been his hope once upon a time for the tower, but Tony wasn’t going to bring that up now either. It’d do absolutely nothing.

Steve leaned back a little, doing that odd shrugging motion with his shoulders that Tony equated with him being uncomfortable or unsure. It made him look a little smaller, which was no mean feat considering how large he was.

“You’d like to be friends,” Steve repeated, eyes flicking between his hands and Tony’s face.

“Yes,” Tony answered simply, dipping his chin in a nod. He _would_ like that – would like to be something more than this awkward dance they currently have.

“And…nothing more?” Steve gave him a sidelong look.

For the _love of God_. _Why_ was this happening to him?

“Well,” Tony drawled, “we _could_ always do friends with benefits, but I get the impression you’re in for something a little more serious than that, and my heart’s somewhere else, big guy.”

Steve’s brow had a furrow in it like he was trying to figure something out. “Natasha seemed pretty sure.” He sounded dubious.

“And if Natasha seems sure, then it’s the right thing?” Tony’s tone was acerbic. “News flash, buddy, Natasha Romanov has been wrong as many times as she’s been right. She just doesn’t admit the times she’s wrong because they’re bad for her rep and she hates admitting that she’s anything less but flawless. The Black Widow _always_ has to be right.” There was more bitterness in the words than he’d expected, so clearly he wasn’t entirely over the shit she’d pulled (there was a loud “No shit!” from his internal Rhodey). “Uh, so not the point. Forget Natasha, Steve.”

“I’m trying,” Steve muttered, rubbing at his face. He shook his head a little. “Okay, so.” He met Tony’s eyes. “Friends, right?”

“Friends,” Tony agreed easily, ignoring how hard his heart was pounding in his chest (no arc reactor anymore so it was totally fine). “ _Actually_ friends this time.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, smiling slightly. “Okay. Yeah. I’d…I’d really like that, Tony.” He hesitated a moment, then added softly, “I’ve missed you.”

That definitely did not do things to Tony’s heart. Who knew all he needed to feel as light as a feather was to hear those words from Captain America himself?

“Don’t get too sappy on me now,” Tony managed, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “We’ve still got the legwork to do. And this means”—he poked Steve in the chest—“no more skedaddling out of rooms I’m in. You’re going to give me a complex at this rate.”

Steve’s laugh was a little louder this time, and he grinned at Tony. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony said, flashing a grin at him. Before he could think the better of it (was already thinking the better of it, in fact), he extended a hand.

Steve took it without hesitation, grip firm.

Tony was suddenly reminded of the very first time they shook hands after the Chitauri invasion and seeing Loki and Thor off. That time had been amicable – _promising_. Only nothing had come of it.

This time?

It wasn’t just amicable. Steve’s smile was worlds different as well, friendly and warm and hopeful rather than perfunctorily polite like it had been that time.

“I’ll finagle something with the others,” Steve told him. “Get some ideas about what we can do to bond.”

“I hear movie nights are all the rage,” Tony suggested.

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “Card games might be a good idea as well.” His gaze went a little distant. “Worked like a charm with the Commandos.” His tone was soft.

Oh no. Tony squirmed a little, sliding his hand back into his pocket. “Should work like a charm here as well,” he said after an awkward moment, keeping his tone casual. Rhodey insisted Tony counted cards and cheated, so Tony wasn’t too sure how well that would go over but they could always give it the good old college try. (Wouldn’t spies cheat as well?)

“Yeah.” Steve gave him a quick, shy smile, brushing his hair out of his forehead. It stayed out, clearly still damp enough with sweat that it would behave. “So, uh…thanks for stopping by, Tony. And…thanks for everything else.” His voice was quiet.

Tony suddenly felt hot under the collar, taking a step back and fidgeting, gesturing over his shoulder. “Er, yeah, sure, no problem. About anything. Uh, hit me up if you need anything else, Cap – Steve.” Steve didn’t like Cap; he liked _Steve_. “You know where to find me if you do need me.”

Steve sighed. “Seriously.” His tone was firm. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Right.” Tony felt damn uncomfortable. What the hell was he being thanked for? “I’ll leave you to it, shall I? Go slaughter some punching bags. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He beat a hasty retreat before Steve could do something else ridiculously wholesome like try thanking him a _third_ time. It felt like he was getting hives and Tony hadn’t even eaten anything he was allergic to.

… _Was_ he allergic to something? Probably a question best asked Pepper or Rhodey. They usually made sure he wasn’t about to eat something he didn’t like or would disagree with him.

Tony shook the thought out of his head. It wasn’t helpful in the least and he had bigger fish to fry (figuratively; he didn’t know how to fry fish and wouldn’t dare try after the last cooking incident led to Pepper begging him to _please_ stay out of the kitchen altogether).

Once he was far enough from Steve to prevent super soldier hearing from picking anything up, Tony turned his attention to his errant AI. “FRIDAY, I want answers.”

“Answers to what, boss?”

Tony resisted the urge to pinch his nose. “You know damn well what, FRIDAY. Why did you think I would be considering a relationship with Steve Rogers? Why would you put forth _Rhodey_ as an option?”

“I told you,” FRIDAY said, “my algorithms suggest that you being in a relationship with Colonel Rhodes would carry a ninety-five percent chance of success.”

 _Ninety-five_. Tony stumbled back a little, one hand coming to rest with a slight thud on the table behind him as he caught his balance. “You – you might want to reconfigure those algorithms, Fri,” he managed faintly.

“No.” FRIDAY’s tone could be described as obstinate.

“Yes, because I don’t know what data you’re basing that off of, but relationships require _both_ parties to be interested.”

“You like him.” FRIDAY sounded sulky now. “It could work if you tried.”

Tony sighed, dragging a hand through his hair and down his face, pressing it against his eyes. “Sure,” he said, sounding infinitely more patient than he felt, “but it needs _two_ people who are interested, Fri. If one person isn’t, nothing will happen.”

“But you’re interested?”

What was his life that he was discussing dating with his _AI_ (very sad with no excitement on the horizon)?

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony said wearily, “because Rhodey has made his stance very clear.”

FRIDAY was silent for a moment. “Colonel Rhodes likes you, too.”

“He’s my best friend; I’d _hope_ he likes me.”

There was another beat of silence. “There is no mistake with my algorithms, boss,” she said eventually. “The data is gathered from concrete facts I observe, not speculations or opinions. If I were to adjust them, they’d be wrong.”

“Concrete facts,” Tony repeated, mind spinning. His chest felt tight for no reason related to his heart (he hoped). “What concrete facts?”

“Only what I’ve observed, boss,” FRIDAY chirped (fucking _chirped_ ).

Tony found himself sitting down in a chair, burying his face in his hands. “What did you observe.”

FRIDAY understood despite Tony speaking into his hands. “Patterns of interactions, boss. I’ve been sworn to privacy on the rest.”

“FRIDAY.”

“I’ve been coded to protect privacy except in cases of emergencies, boss.”

Tony mumbled a swear into his hands, curling into a ball on the chair. He was too fucking tired for this, his eyes hurting, a vague headache pounding at his temples, and sleep a mistress that never came (last night had been good but not enough).

“Might I suggest communication, boss?” FRIDAY still sounded far too damn cheery for what they were discussing (the best relationship of his goddamn _life_ ; Tony wasn’t going to risk it over a _chance_ ).

“Fuck communication,” Tony muttered into his hands, pressing them into his eyes a second later. It didn’t help except to help him see lights behind his eyelids.

“I’m not sure Ms. Potts would agree.”

“Well, she isn’t here, is she?” Tony regretted the words the moment they were out, pulling in a sharp breath. Not. The point. Pepper had nothing to do with his relationship with Rhodey (or where he’d like it to go; she’d never had a single idea). “Sometimes,” he said lowly, “being quiet is just…better.”

Rhodey wanted him to be happy and Tony very much wanted to be happy, too, but sometimes one just had to settle for second best. Tony had already taken the step to being happ _ier_ with reaching out to Steve and mending things with the Avengers.

But as for everything else? Tony wasn’t going to risk losing what he already had.

Rhodey had made it _crystal_ clear where he stood with Tony over the years. Tony was always the type to push, but _never_ when it came to this. Not with a relationship that he was already so damned lucky to have, and he wasn’t going to risk it for something he didn’t _need_ (but certainly wanted).

There was no response from FRIDAY, though Tony didn’t know what he would have done if she had said something.

That just left him sitting in an empty room, hands pressed to his eyes and _aching_.

He could be happy like this. It was fine. It was all good.

(Hope was too painful.)

* * *

“So, you and Rogers make up yet?”

Tony didn’t startle at the sound of Rhodey’s voice. He did _not_ startle. No, he just calmly closed down the file he’d been working on and turned his chair around (it was very spinny and nice except when he was tired or drunk and things started spinning more than usual).

Rhodey was standing in the doorway of his workshop, arms folded over his chest. He looked appropriately serious for the matter at hand, frowning slightly.

“Sure did,” Tony answered, spinning around a small soldering tool in one hand. “All good.”

Rhodey stepped further into the workshop, and Tony wasn’t sure if he was making up the whirring sound of his prosthetics or if he was actually hearing them. He glanced down to them despite himself.

“Yeah?” Rhodey’s tone was noncommittal, which could mean anything from “this is the stupidest idea ever” to “this is stupid and I’m totally in” to “I approve but don’t want you to know.” “I’d’ve thought you’d be with him.”

“Eh.” Tony shrugged. “It’s going to be an uphill thing.”

“Might help if you spend time with him.”

“That’ll happen. We’ve got to get the rest of the team on board, too.”

Rhodey raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t think they’ll mind. Romanov seems to be egging it on, which means the others are probably rooting for it, too.”

Tony paused, something niggling at him. It felt a little like two gears not quite fitting together, throwing everything entirely out of whack.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, watching Rhodey steadily, “but there’s still some hard feelings. Wanda still gives me some looks, and Clint hasn’t said a word to me.”

Rhodey made a face at hearing Wanda’s name. “Okay, but if Rogers really cares about you and making this work, he shouldn’t care about that. And he’s never been the kind to walk to someone else’s tune, has he?” There was a sardonic lilt to his voice.

“Seemed pretty committed. He was talking about bringing in card games and agreed to movie nights, so note that down on your calendar since you’ll be required to attend as well.”

“Does he know card games are a terrible idea for dates with you?” Rhodey asked.

“They are _not_ ,” Tony objected, “since you can do _so_ many things with cards! Like magic tricks! Who doesn’t want to go on a date with someone who knows cool card tricks?” He paused, registering just what Rhodey said in conjunction with Steve Rogers. “Is it a date if it’s the entire team? That seems more like a group date thing, and I don’t think anyone’s into polyamory here.”

“Your previous bed partners say otherwise,” Rhodey responded seemingly on autopilot. “I remember the twins.” And then, “Wait, group date? What the hell is he doing? That’s not how you date!”

Tony gave Rhodey a look, something squirming in his stomach. “I’m going to need you to use small words here, platypus. Why the hell are you talking about dating?”

Rhodey threw his hands up. “Because you’re dating him!”

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if I were dating Steve Rogers, not the least because I’d be wondering how on earth I managed that.”

“You’d manage that because you’re too good for him,” Rhodey said. “We’ve gone over this, Tony.”

That was _so_ not the point. “Why the _hell_ do you think I’m interested in dating Steve Rogers? When did I even mention that as being a thing?” First FRIDAY and now Rhodey?

No, wait… Several things Rhodey said before made some sense. Sure, Tony had _thought_ they were talking about Tony mending bridges with Steve and becoming friends, but apparently Rhodey had been under the assumption that he wanted to _date_ Steve?

“You were moping around!” Rhodey accused him. “Moping and sulking and kept complaining about Rogers ignoring you! What else was I supposed to think?”

“I don’t _mope_ ,” Tony protested. “Since when do I mope?”

“Since ever?” Rhodey sounded exasperated.

“And you were supposed to think!” Tony continued, waving the hand with the tool around. “I’ve never shown any interest in him!”

Rhodey raised his eyebrows. “‘Oh, Rhodey, you could bounce a dime off that ass,’” he said, pitching his tone to one unlike his normal one (and probably intending to resemble Tony’s, which it did not). “‘Rhodey, his suit is a crime to fashion and to America; it does his ass absolutely no favors.’” He rolled his eyes. “‘Have you seen his baby blues, Rhodey? I swear there’s a bit of green in them.’”

“There is!” Tony distinctly remembered Zemo mentioning it and then had to confirm for himself in photos. “And absolutely none of that means I want to date him. It just means I can appreciate when someone looks nice.”

Rhodey looked skeptical. “There’s an awful lot of appreciation going on there for someone who claims to be uninterested.”

Because Tony had _eyes_ and _anyone_ with eyes would appreciate how Steve Rogers looked. He’d had people who were lesbians and asexuals admit that Steve Rogers was gorgeous. Tony was definitely bi as hell and so he could admit that Steve Rogers was good looking!

But that didn’t mean he wanted to date him because the man he would very much _like_ to do that with was painfully straight.

Or maybe not if what FRIDAY’s algorithms were suggesting was true.

“FRIDAY said something funny,” Tony said after a moment, swallowing down his nerves.

“Isn’t that her thing?” Rhodey’s tone was noncommittal. “Witty repartee and all that?”

There was no witty rejoinder from FRIDAY at that, which just went to show she was learning.

“Sure,” Tony said, torn between looking down at his hands and looking at Rhodey. He decided to look at Rhodey. There was a lot he could miss if he just stared at his hands. “But it’s less ‘funny’ and more ‘oh shit, maybe I need to walk her through how to properly compile algorithms.’”

FRIDAY was silent, but Tony had the distinct impression she was miffed at him (she could join the club).

Rhodey was frowning now. “So there’s something seriously wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so?” Tony wet his lips, looking down now as his stomach flip-flopped. “I mean…I don’t know. But she – she said she was operating under concrete data, but concrete data that doesn’t make any sense because I’ve got data suggesting the complete opposite so I don’t know where she’s getting her information because you’d think that after three decades I’d _know_ —”

“Hey, _Tony_.” Rhodey’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Breathe. It’s all right.”

Tony took a few breaths, heart beating too fast in his chest. He pinched his nose with his free hand, not looking up to Rhodey.

“What’s going on?” Rhodey’s voice was soft.

He could not say anything. He could just…leave it. Make a joke, laugh it off. Lie and say something else. Let the status quo lie and be content with how everything always was. He could do that. It would be _fine_ (fine but not _good_ ).

But he _wanted_. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to _try_. He’d been happy with Pepper, but he’d always seen the anvil over their heads, knowing ( _knowing_ ) that their relationship couldn’t last because she didn’t want the same things he did and he couldn’t fit himself into the mold she wanted of him (he would always be Iron Man and that wasn’t something he could give up and he’d _tried_ ).

He could be…not happy, but content with how things were right now. He could be.

It wasn’t like he needed things to change, but it sure would be nice, wouldn’t it?

And FRIDAY… She was still young, still learning, but she had to have gotten her information from _somewhere_. Now that Tony knew (“concrete facts”), he couldn’t just forget what he’d heard (and hoped for).

“She said a relationship with you would be more successful than one with him,” Tony said to the floor, focus narrowed in on that point where Rhodey was touching his shoulder.

Rhodey was silent for a beat too long. “She what?”

Tony forced himself to look up and meet Rhodey’s eyes. Rhodey looked startled, eyes wide, and Tony wasn’t sure what that meant. “She said there was a ninety-five percent chance of success for a relationship with you compared to one with Steve.”

Rhodey pulled his hand back, scratching at his face. “Oh, ah… I can see why you’d think she might need some recalibrating in that case.”

There was an offended beeping sound from Dummy.

Tony snorted, managing a grin that felt far too strained. “I don’t know where she gets these ‘concrete facts’ from unless I’m missing something.”

Rhodey gave a short laugh, grinning a little. “You miss a lot sometimes.”

Tony smiled weakly, his usual response of _Rude_ dying in his throat. It would be so easy to just slip into their usual bantering and let their relationship slide back into easy familiarity. Nothing tried and nothing lost (just an empty aching and the silent _what if?_ ).

But…

“I’m pretty sure I have all the variables,” Tony said, heart in his throat. “I…I’ve known you for most my life, Rhodey. And if – if there was something _there_ , I’d know, wouldn’t I? You’ve always made it clear where you stand.”

“What are you getting at, Tony?”

“You don’t swing that way,” Tony said, a faint note of accusation creeping into his tone. “You’ve told me once – a _dozen_ times”—so much more than that—“ _you don’t swing that way_.” He was on his feet now, looking Rhodey in the eyes. “So what concrete facts is FRIDAY basing this off of, Rhodey?”

Rhodey didn’t look like he was breathing, eyes wide. His body was radiating tension. He said absolutely nothing.

The silence felt like a noose, a heavy blanket on his shoulders, like it was impossible to breathe. And it dragged out for a two minutes before Tony realized Rhodey wasn’t going to talk.

He exhaled, drawing back slightly from where he’d pushed into Rhodey’s space (stupid, _stupid_ ). “Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “It’s all fine, isn’t it?”

Tony stepped to the side and then past Rhodey, but he was pulled back from moving any further by Rhodey gripping hold of his arm.

“Wait.” Rhodey’s voice was tense. “You can’t – you can’t just put words in my mouth, Tony. That’s not how this works.” He didn’t let go of Tony’s arm, holding him fast.

Tony slowly met his eyes, studying his face. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing there. “I’m not. I can quote you, you know.”

“Don’t.” Rhodey shook his head, fingers flexing around Tony’s arm.

“How does this work?” Tony asked. “Because I’ve no idea, Rhodey. You’re not interested – have repeatedly insisted you’re _not_ interested – and apparently I’m missing some facts here—”

Rhodey was kissing him.

Tony blinked, brain stalled on the sensation of lips against his own, Rhodey’s fingers tight around his arm.

 _Rhodey_ was _kissing him_.

It was only for a moment, Rhodey pulling away before Tony could even consider his response (kissing back? Clinging? Both?). “And I said,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a rueful smile, “you do miss things.”

Tony licked his lips, wondering if he was imagining the tingling sensation. “Did I?” he eventually managed, inanely. What did he miss? How?

“You didn’t have all the variables,” Rhodey continued, his other hand coming up to Tony’s other arm. “Can’t derive a conclusion based off faulty data, Tones.”

“I had the variables,” Tony protested, shuffling in a little closer. He almost grabbed hold of Rhodey’s shirt but reconsidered at the last moment (what was going on?). “Not my fault you…lied? Did you lie?” He reeled back a little, held in place only by Rhodey’s firm grip on his arms.

“You were _fifteen_ ,” Rhodey said quietly. “Fifteen and blind _drunk_. You propositioned me the moment you were sober. Of course I said no.”

“I wasn’t fifteen three years later.” Tony wasn’t sure what was in his voice. He remembered that. Remembered Rhodey telling him he was a minor and all he wanted was to make sure Tony was safe. Remembered deciding that he was going to _keep_ Rhodey and then falling in love and waiting until he was eighteen and could _do it_. “I wasn’t fifteen when I made a pass at you and you laughed and said ‘I don’t swing that way.’” Oh, it was hurt. That’s what it was. “Like you’ve said every other time.”

Rhodey looked pained. “I – I panicked. Because you – you were still a kid, and I had no idea what I was doing.”

“So you lied.” Tony dropped his eyes to the floor between them, heart heavy. He wasn’t sure what was happening here, if Rhodey wanted this or if it was just a one-time kiss as a consolation prize. “And you kept lying.”

“Yeah.” Rhodey’s voice sounded just as pained as his expression. “I didn’t…I didn’t think you were serious. And there never seemed to be the right _time_. Your parents, Stane, the company… You were this…” He sighed, rubbing his thumbs briefly over Tony’s arms. “You were all over the place, and nothing was ever serious. I couldn’t do that, Tones. It…it was always serious for me.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, muscles tight with tension. “Nice to know that’s what you think about me.”

“ _No_.” Rhodey’s grip tightened. “ _No_ , Tony. That’s _not_ what I think about you.”

“Then why the _hell_ keep lying?” Tony snapped, and shit, his eyes were burning. “It’s been thirty goddamn years!”

“You were with Pepper!”

“I wasn’t with her before! I’m not with her _now_!”

“I didn’t know!” Rhodey’s grip was almost unbearably tight; he seemed to realize what he was doing and let go (why did Tony feel so much colder now?). “I didn’t know what to do,” he said in a quieter tone, dropping his hands to his sides. “I was in the Air Force by that point; I didn’t…there didn’t seem to be a point in risking everything when everything…” He exhaled. “When you treated things like a joke. It was never a joke for me, Tony.”

Tony had no defense to that because it was true. He _had_ treated everything as a joke then (it hurt too much to be serious), but he would have been _dead_ serious about Rhodey.

He folded his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into the spots where Rhodey’s hands had been moments ago. “It was never a joke for me either,” he muttered.

Rhodey let out a pained breath. “I’m getting that.”

“So then what?” Tony gave a small, jerky shrug, flicking his eyes up to Rhodey’s face and then down to the floor. “You still interested now?”

There was an abrupt movement from Rhodey, but when Tony looked up he just saw him rubbing at the back of his neck. He was met with a rather shy smile, not one Tony had seen before.

“Yeah.” Rhodey’s voice was quiet. “I’ve, uh…never stopped.” He hesitated a moment, then slowly asked, “Ah…you?”

Tony stared at him, mind whirling. “Then what was all that shit about trying to get me with Steve Rogers?”

Huffing, Rhodey rubbed his hand over the back of his head, then let his hand drop. “I thought it was what you wanted – what would make you happy.”

“I wanted to be friends,” Tony heard himself say. “I wanted us to be something _more_ than a team. And – and that didn’t happen, but maybe it can happen now. That’s why I was moping, not because I wanted to knock boots with him and he wouldn’t do it. You _idiot_.”

“Just a bit.” Rhodey smiled weakly. “I…I guess I got too used to the status quo. I’m – I’m sorry, Tones. I’m sorry for lying.”

“So long as you don’t do it again.”

Rhodey frowned slightly, opening his mouth, and Tony didn’t want to hear all the reasons for why that was an unreasonable promise to make (since it was; everyone had things they didn’t want to share), so he just stepped forward, put his hands on Rhodey’s neck and tugged him in for a kiss.

There was a startled noise from Rhodey and a jerk as he stiffened, and Tony gave him enough time to register what happened before he pulled away.

“Does that answer your question?” Tony’s voice was quiet, and this time his lips were _definitely_ tingling.

Rhodey’s brow furrowed slightly, but then he seemed to realize what Tony was referring to, the answer he was giving ( _always_ ). His lips pulled into a sly grin. “I’m not sure. Can we try again?”

Tony matched Rhodey’s grin with his own, then dove in for more. This time Rhodey met him halfway, his hands coming up to Tony’s back to pull him in, press their bodies together.

They were of a similar height, had been for years ever since Tony had hit that growth spurt at MIT, though Rhodey would always insist he was just that little bit taller (even though he wasn’t; it was a flat out lie and Tony would gleefully point this out to anyone who asked). It meant that there wasn’t any odd angling of necks or need to crouch down or lean up to slot their lips together.

Some things were a little different, like the feel of Rhodey’s prosthetics against Tony’s legs, the occasional whirring sound as Rhodey shifted (he was totally going to fix that in the next model), and how Rhodey was holding him just a little _too_ tightly to be entirely casual.

But it was okay because Tony was holding him just as tightly, sliding one hand down Rhodey’s back to fist it in his shirt, his other cupping Rhodey’s face and digging his thumb into the space behind Rhodey’s ear as they kept kissing.

There was a slight stumble, and then Rhodey stepped back, bracing himself on a table, not letting Tony go despite the sudden shift in their positions and the way Tony’s neck was suddenly angled slightly down.

Tony was about to say something snarky (“I make your knees go wobbly?”) when Rhodey did something with his tongue that made _his_ knees go wobbly and he slumped a little more heavily into Rhodey than was strictly polite or appropriate. One of Rhodey’s hands slid up his back to his hair, fingers scratching over Tony’s scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

“Too much gel,” Rhodey muttered against Tony’s mouth. “ _Always_ too much gel.”

“Hey—” Tony groaned into Rhodey’s mouth, fingers flexing against Rhodey’s neck at the way his best friend just dug his fingers into his scalp. “You’re – not…complaining.” He gasped, Rhodey interrupting him in-between words with kisses.

“You’re talking too much.” Rhodey pulled him in for another kiss. And then, “I complain.” He dragged his hand through Tony’s hair, mussing it up (there was no gel in it today because Tony wasn’t going anywhere in the public eye). “This is nice,” he said after another few tingling kisses that had Tony searching for more.

Dazed, Tony wasn’t sure if Rhodey was referring to his hair, their current position, or the kisses. Rhodey was stroking his fingers through his hair, so it could really be any of the three.

“Yeah,” Tony eventually settled on saying, since that was a relatively safe response. He darted in for another kiss, lingering on this one until they were breathing each other’s air. “Nice.” His voice sounded hoarse.

Rhodey grinned at him, moving the hand that was on Tony’s back until his arm was wrapped around his waist and he could pull Tony in closer. The position was a little awkward given Rhodey was half-sitting on the table and Tony’s body weight was practically lying on him, but he didn’t seem to mind at all, rubbing his nose against Tony’s.

Tony closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Rhodey’s, letting the hand at Rhodey’s neck drop to his waist. He wrapped both arms around Rhodey’s waist, hooking his fingers around his own elbows with how tightly he was holding him (it helped that Rhodey was slim and always would be, no matter how long he’d been in the military).

There was a kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth, and then one to Tony’s cheek but Rhodey didn’t move, leaving his lips pressed to his skin and breathing in.

Tony eventually dropped his head to Rhodey’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. “So we’re a thing now?” he mumbled, pressing his face into Rhodey’s shirt.

“Yeah, Tones.” Rhodey sounded hopelessly fond. “We are.”

There was a wiggly ball of happiness in Tony’s chest, and he hid a smile in Rhodey’s shirt, clutching him more tightly. “I don’t think boyfriends is the right term,” he said after another moment, moving his head up so his chin was lying on Rhodey’s shoulder. “We’re not teenagers anymore. But lovers sounds stupid and a bit like we’re only in it for the sex.”

“You haven’t even gotten me in bed yet, Tones,” Rhodey said dryly.

Tony moved one of his hands to lightly pinch Rhodey’s side. “You’re forgetting all the times we did share a bed totally platonically – except not since apparently neither of us felt all that platonically about each other.”

“Tony.” Rhodey sighed into his ear, breath ruffling his hair. He didn’t sound all that exasperated or annoyed, though, more fondly resigned. “I’m fine with whatever.”

Tony huffed discontentedly. “That doesn’t help at all, honey bear,” he complained.

Rhodey laughed, and Tony felt the vibrations through his own body. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound remotely sorry. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Tony bit at Rhodey’s shoulder, relishing in the startled jump Rhodey gave.

“ _Tony_ ,” Rhodey hissed, arms tightening reflexively around Tony.

“Yes?” Tony was relatively sure Rhodey could tell he was grinning, but he was too damn happy to stop.

“You’re absolutely impossible.” Rhodey sounded far too fond for the words to have their intended impact.

“But you love me anyway,” Tony said, pitching his tone to be bright and barely avoiding the lilt that would indicate a question.

Rhodey seemed to hear it anyway. “Yeah, I do.” His tone was soft, and he brushed a kiss over Tony’s temple. “I do.”

Tony bit his lip, pressing his mouth to Rhodey’s shoulder. After a moment he said, hesitantly, “Like a friend?”

“Always like a friend,” Rhodey said, “but I’m relatively sure friends don’t go kissing friends like we just did.”

A small knot untangled itself in Tony’s sternum, and he leaned a little more heavily into Rhodey.

Rhodey didn’t complain, shifting his legs back a little but still holding Tony tightly.

Tony breathed out slowly, turning his head until his face was hidden in Rhodey’s neck. He breathed in Rhodey’s scent, registering the familiar smell of his cologne and something else that was uniquely Rhodey.

His eyes ached, and the ever-present headache was slowly making itself known as the tension from before eased its way out of his muscles.

Tony was barely aware that he was leaning more and more of his weight onto Rhodey until Rhodey shifted again, sitting back more heavily on the table. Startling, Tony pulled back, only to be met with the cage of Rhodey’s arms (not a cage; _security_ ).

“Okay,” Rhodey said, “let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“I don’t need a bed,” Tony said, chancing a glance down to his wrist where his watch was. “It’s not even evening yet, Rhodey.”

“Maybe not, but when’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep? Your circles have circles, and I know you have a headache.”

Tony sighed into Rhodey’s neck, closing his eyes against that fucking headache that had been his bane for days now. “It’ll go away.”

“It’ll go away faster if you sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I can still carry your ass to bed.”

“I thought you didn’t want to carry my fat ass to bed.”

And then, suddenly, Rhodey copped a feel, Tony jolting at the unexpected touch. “It’s a nice one,” Rhodey said blandly.

Tony felt his cheeks heat, which was absolutely ridiculous because he wasn’t new to this (but it was _Rhodey_ ). He did pull away from Rhodey now, the mental image of Nick Fury in a pink tutu cooling the heat in his face. “Of course it is,” he managed, flashing Rhodey a grin. “Glad you’re appreciating it.”

Rhodey grinned back at him, looking soft and happy in a way Tony hadn’t seen on him before. “Sure am. And I’d appreciate it more if you went to bed and slept.”

Tony shifted a little, ducking his head and glancing towards the cot he had placed in the workshop. It wasn’t the most comfortable but it worked in a pinch. He didn’t really want to go up to his bedroom and sleep there, not when everything was so damn new and he might wake up thinking it was all a dream.

Rhodey’s hand grasped his shoulder, and Tony found himself turned away from the cot.

“C’mon.” Rhodey’s tone forbade any arguments. “A proper bed, not the cot down here.”

“You gonna join me?” Tony asked unthinkingly.

“I might if you ask nicely.”

Tony bit his lip, letting Rhodey push him out of the workshop. He didn’t say anything as they headed to his bedroom, wondering if he should try – if he should _ask_.

They’d shared beds before, mostly when they were in MIT, but now things were totally different and Tony didn’t know if Rhodey would be comfortable with this.

But then he was staring at his too-large bed and Rhodey was right by his side and the words fell out before he could rethink them. “I’m asking.”

Rhodey let out a small breath. “Then I’ll stay.”

There was no further conversation between them as Tony changed out of his clothes, watching Rhodey do the same out of the corner of his eye. Even though Rhodey had seen him sans clothes numerous times before, Tony felt awkward doing it now, aware of everything that had changed over the years.

In comparison, Rhodey still looked as good as ever, the prosthetics only enhancing what was already there.

Tony slipped under the covers before he could make a fool of himself. Rhodey slipped under the covers as well but propped himself up against the headboard, a tablet in hand. It was clear he wasn’t about to sleep.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at his mind and the heaviness of his eyelids, Tony didn’t let himself fall asleep just yet, watching Rhodey in the blue light of the screen. There was no movement aside from the occasional swipe of his fingers and the furrow of his brow.

Then, suddenly, Rhodey’s hand came to rest in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

Tony shivered at the gentle touch, tingles radiating down his spine. His eyes closed despite himself. He managed to force them open a moment later.

“Want to make out like teenagers?” Tony asked, breaking the silence.

Rhodey laughed, digging his fingers a little harder (but still so damn gently) into his scalp. “Sleep, Tony.”

“ _Rhodey_.” Tony shuffled closer, pressing his forehead to Rhodey’s hip right above the prosthetic.

“Sleep, and then maybe I’ll consider it.” Rhodey scratched his nails lightly down the back of Tony’s neck and then up into his hair, gently tousling it. “I’ll be here.”

Tony huffed but didn’t otherwise protest. Rhodey didn’t remove his hand from Tony’s head, continuing the gentle patting motions that were more soothing and lulling than most things Tony had ever experienced.

His focus narrowed in to the feel of Rhodey’s fingers in his hair and his warmth against his forehead, his breathing slowing down and the whir of his thoughts matching pace. It was just…warm.

Tony didn’t even notice when he fell asleep, only registering that he must have when he registered that he’d moved and so had Rhodey.

He was always a clingy sleeper. Pepper hadn’t minded much except for when the arc reactor dug into her shoulders or breasts, but that wasn’t an issue anymore.

Rhodey had apparently opted for a nap as well, sliding down into the bed, and Tony woke up half-lying on his chest, his leg sprawled over Rhodey’s.

So it _hadn’t_ been a dream. It had really, really happened, and Rhodey was _here_ and Tony _could have him_.

He was aware he was smiling giddily but couldn’t seem to stop, so he just settled for burying his face in Rhodey’s shirt, tightening his grip on the soft fabric.

It was enough movement that Rhodey stirred, one hand clumsily stroking along Tony’s back. “Mm…Tony?” His voice sounded sleepy.

“Yeah, honey.” Tony flushed a little at the endearment, which was now so much more serious than the last time he’d used it.

Rhodey’s other hand came up to Tony’s shoulder, wrapping around him. “Hey.” He sounded terribly fond.

Tony lifted his head enough to look at Rhodey, just able to make out his features in the dark.

Rhodey smiled at him, though Tony couldn’t make out much more than that. “Sleep all right?”

The clock at his bedside said it was two in the morning, which explained why Rhodey had decided to sleep as well. His eyes didn’t ache as much, and the headache was practically gone, but that could also be due to the happy, fluttering feeling in his stomach and the light sensation in his heart.

“Awesome,” Tony said, voicing absolutely none of that because he wasn’t _that_ sappy. “How about you?”

“Just fine until someone decided to wake me up.” Rhodey’s voice was lightly teasing.

“I was promised making out like horny teenagers if I slept,” Tony said, inching up until he was level with Rhodey’s face. It was dark, but he could kiss in his sleep (probably had come to think of it).

“I don’t remember the horny bit.”

“It was insinuated.”

“It was not.”

Tony kissed him before Rhodey could come up with anymore stupid arguments for why they shouldn’t be kissing. He missed the mark at first, kissing the corner of Rhodey’s mouth before he readjusted and lined their mouths up, sighing happily when Rhodey kissed him back unhesitatingly.

He was still lying mostly on top of Rhodey, but the angle was a little odd for the position he’d woken up in. He gradually shifted until he was lying on top of Rhodey, which was weight Rhodey could totally take because he’d seen his muscles and Rhodey was awesome.

Tony had rarely just kissed for the sake of kissing. He’d done it with Pepper a few times, but she’d always been on the go and he hadn’t been much better. There’d been cuddling, and Tony loved just lying next to the person he loved and just… _holding_ them.

That was nice and this was nice, just kissing without necessarily wanting or needing more, even if it could go that way.

Tony’s body was definitely getting interested, and he could tell Rhodey’s was as well.

But neither moved to take it any further, Tony enjoying the feeling of Rhodey underneath him, the prickle of stubble against his skin when he dragged his mouth over Rhodey’s jaw and then back to his mouth. There were hitched breaths and some faint groans, but Rhodey gave as good as he got, slipping a hand underneath Tony’s shirt and splaying it over his back even while he methodologically took Tony apart with his mouth.

He found the sweet spot under Tony’s jaw and worried at it for a little bit, Tony gasping and rocking a little against him unthinkingly before Rhodey meandered back up to Tony’s mouth and they kept kissing. Kept kissing until Tony’s lips were pleasantly tingling and warm and swollen and he couldn’t catch his breath.

Rhodey sounded just as breathless, fingers flexing against the skin of Tony’s back and his other hand buried in his hair.

Eventually, too soon and too long after, the kisses tapered off until they were just breathing each other’s air and Tony just occasionally, mindlessly pressed small kisses to Rhodey’s jaw and the corner of his mouth, catching his breath. Rhodey pressed his lips to Tony’s cheek, his mouth, and then buried his face in Tony’s neck, both arms wrapped around him tightly.

Tony had no complaints, just pressed a kiss to Rhodey’s temple and held him as best as he could with Rhodey under him. His heart was pounding in his chest, but it felt several pounds too light and he felt like he could just _fly_ without the armor.

“I love you,” Rhodey muttered into Tony’s neck, arms tightening around Tony’s middle.

Tony breathed out sharply, chest tightening and heart _aching_. He kissed Rhodey’s head. “You, too,” he murmured.

“We should sleep some more,” Rhodey said some minutes later, breath warm against Tony’s skin.

Tony let out a small breath, moving his body weight to the side. Rhodey rolled with him until they were both lying on their sides, Rhodey’s face still tucked into his neck.

“You a cuddler?” Tony was able to wiggle his arms around Rhodey like this. One was definitely going to be asleep by the morning but it would be totally worth it.

Rhodey grumbled something under his breath, clinging more tightly to Tony.

“You _are_.” Tony laughed, chest warm and happy, and kissed what he could reach of Rhodey’s face.

“As if you haven’t turned into a literal koala at points,” Rhodey said into Tony’s neck.

“Yeah, but I’ve never denied it.” Tony curled more closely into Rhodey, closing his eyes and smiling into his shortly shorn hair.

Rhodey sighed, arms tightening once more around Tony before relaxing. He didn’t let go, still loosely holding onto him. His breathing was slowing down, slipping more towards the rhythm of sleep.

Tony stayed awake a little longer, flushed with happiness and a soft warmth that he didn’t want to let go of just yet.

But it would still be there in the morning, so he let himself go, closing his eyes and breathing in Rhodey’s scent.

Not a dream. He could have this.

He could actually be _happy_.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh...thoughts?
> 
> (Also Happy New Year's! Thought I'd slip this through the radar before 2020.)
> 
> You can hit me up on [tumblr](http://inukagome15.tumblr.com) if you'd like. This also has a [tumblr post](https://inukagome15.tumblr.com/post/189981098951/tell-me-you-love-me-i-want-to-believe) if you'd like to give it a reblog and some love! <3


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